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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732244">Places You Have Blessed</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittlestChocobo/pseuds/TheLittlestChocobo'>TheLittlestChocobo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Perhaps There Is Only Abyss [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Kinloch Hold (Dragon Age), Romance, Romantic Fluff, Young Amell, young Cullen Rutherford</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:15:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732244</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittlestChocobo/pseuds/TheLittlestChocobo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen Rutherford is a young Templar, appointed to his first real position at Kinloch Hold. He’s eager to prove himself and to do good in the world. The problem, of course, is the young mage he can’t seem to get out of his head. </p><p>A series of drabbles of young Cullen Rutherford and apprentice Lucija Amell’s romance. Set throughout the two years before Origins takes place, and occur chronologically. A sweet little romance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amell/Cullen Rutherford, Cullen Rutherford/Female Warden, Cullen Rutherford/Warden, Female Amell/Cullen Rutherford</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Perhaps There Is Only Abyss [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028571</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. In Days Forgotten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cullen Rutherford talks to a girl</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Rutherford, your watch is being reassigned,” Knight-Commander Greagoir said. He shifted through the papers atop his desk, not looking up at the young man who had entered his office.</p><p>“Oh! I… of course, Knight-Commander,” Cullen Rutherford replied. He twisted his hands nervously, but otherwise stood at perfect attention. He was dressed in heavy plate, emblazoned with a flaming sword. The insignia of the Templar Order. </p><p>“Um, Ser, may I ask why? Did I do something wrong? I only ask because if there is I would like a chance to rectify it in the future, Ser.” Greagoir looked up from the reports he was organizing. He looked as if he were trying to suppress a smile. It was a look Cullen had seen on his face often. Cullen cursed at himself silently. He knew he deserved his reputation for being over-eager, and that most did not find it as endearing as Greagoir seemed to. He didn’t understand the resentment, really. They were all here to do good, weren’t they? But still, it earned him little love among the other Templars, and it was a habit he had been trying to break.</p><p>“No, it’s nothing like that. Your watch is being reassigned to Duvall after the incident in the library. You’re taking over his former assignment.” Cullen suppressed the relieved smile that threatened to break out across his face. He shouldn’t be happy, not while hearing about Greagoir’s latest headache. </p><p>Acton Duvall had been involved in some sort of altercation with one of the apprentices studying at the library. The story had spread quickly through the tower, as anything gossip remotely interesting had a habit of doing. Most of the Templars took Duvall’s side, telling increasingly exaggerated stories about the trouble the mage had been making. The tower’s mages, naturally, whispered amongst themselves about the inhumane use of force Duvall had employed. The truth was certainly somewhere in the middle, and Cullen was reluctant to pass any judgments on either party unless he was certain of what happened. Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving had been arguing all morning. Usually, that meant that the Knight-Commander would be in a foul mood, and was why Cullen had felt such apprehension about this meeting. </p><p>“Of course, Ser. I will report tonight. Is there, ah, anything else that you require?”</p><p>“No, thank you, Rutherford. I expect you will not disappoint me,” Greagoir said, turning back to his reports with a frown.</p><p>“Of course not, Ser.” Cullen turned and left, letting himself smile as he did. Duvall was the second-youngest Templar in the tower, older only than Cullen himself. He had been endlessly irritated that Cullen was, so far, more successful than he, and had made no secret of his disdain for the younger man. Cullen had resisted the rivalry at first, but one could only be on the receiving end of so many mean-spirited jokes and small torments before his neutrality waned. Duvall was going to be furious that Cullen had been reassigned to his former post, and Cullen was going to love every moment of it.</p><p>_________________________________________</p><p>The library watch that evening was, of course, not particularly exciting. The room was lit with the soft glow of the magical lamps the tower kept. The apprentices would energize them each month, going on their rounds to ensure they were well-kept. Cullen, the most junior Templar, had recently spent several mornings in the bitter cold of Ferelden winter as he escorted the young apprentices through the grounds, cold breath swirling visibly before him as he stood with his gloved hands in his armpits, trying to keep his fingers from freezing. Always alongside a more senior Templar, but that was a rotating cast. Though many were eager for the assignment during the summer, it always fell to those who couldn’t refuse when the cold and snow came around. Which meant that every month Cullen was up before dawn, trailing behind the apprentices as the sun rose over the hills.</p><p>But this assignment, a solitary watch, was one of the higher-prestige postings for the more junior Templars in the tower. His previous watches had typically been alongside a Knight-Lieutenant, supervising lessons or gathering amongst the mages. That offered him a chance to learn from the older knight. There was little worry that the mages would require intervention during those times, as the older Enchanters did well to keep the younger apprentices in line. So, while the library was usually deserted this late into the evening, it was still a mark of confidence that he had been assigned to a solitary watch. There were few mages present at this hour, true, but if any caused trouble, it would be on him and him alone to intervene. Cullen held his shoulders firm as he looked around the empty room. Bookcases lined the walls, stretching up to the vaulted ceilings twenty feet above his head. They snaked around and through the circular room, a labyrinth of musty tomes. Heavy wooden tables were littered with books, papers, and quills, despite the fact that they were currently unoccupied. </p><p>Cullen didn’t expect anything to go wrong, of course. He had been in the tower only two years now, but he held a cautious respect for the mages there. Most treated him as if he weren’t there, completely ignoring his presence. Some of the apprentices seemed angry, resentful of his position over them. A few of the older Enchanters were actually kind to him. One older woman, Wynne, was almost motherly. Most seemed a responsible sort, intelligent and cautious. Some of his fellow Templars were disdainful, viewing their charges as abominations waiting to be made. But to Cullen, there was something miraculous about magic. There were a hundred ways it could go wrong, sure, could become something destructive and evil. But magic was made to <i>serve man</i>. It was a wonder. His duty was not to frighten these mages, or to subjugate them. His duty was to ensure they could practice their craft safely, that they could share their gifts with the world. He took pride in that.</p><p>Cullen was pulled from his reverie as someone entered the library at the door across from him. It was one of the apprentices. He knew them all, of course, but this woman was one he would recognize in a moment. He had known she was beautiful the moment he met her, two years ago. A seventeen-year-old boy, assigned to his first official posting as a Templar-in-training. Like him, she was young, and like him, she was precocious. The first thing he had noticed about her was that she was astoundingly beautiful. Dark, thick hair, rich brown skin, and lively, warm brown eyes. The next thing he noticed about her, during his first weeks at the Kinloch tower, was that she was fiercely intelligent and, compared to the other apprentices, quite gifted at her studies. Though he knew little of magic himself, it was clear through the way the others treated her. First Enchanter Irving clearly favored her, and often taught her directly. The other apprentices seemed to bristle, though none outright hated her. The third thing he noticed about her, after living at Kinloch for a year, was that she was very difficult not to like. She told jokes often, and her laugh was infectious. She had a kindness to her, a sweetness that maybe would disappear as she spent her years in the circle. More than a few of the Templars resented her, of course. Duvall himself had complained that she was “flippant,” and Greagoir was inclined to agree that she lacked a respect for the gravity of the circle. After all, it took only one mistake for chaos and death to emerge amidst mages. But Cullen found it refreshing, here in a place where most, especially him, were dedicated to seriousness and duty. </p><p>Lucija settled in at a table stacked with books and littered with crumpled parchment. It must be her habitual place. Most apprentices knew better than to leave things a mess, that was a right reserved for the more accomplished mages. Then again, it was unlikely that one of the older mages would scold her, not as Irving’s favorite. She settled into the high-backed chair and propped a book against the table. Cullen couldn’t quite read the title, not from across the room. As he watched her, her eyes darted up and caught his. He looked away quickly, though he was certain she had caught him. It’s not as if he were doing anything wrong, really. It was his job to watch over the mages. There was no need for the creeping blush that sprang up into his cheeks. He straightened his shoulders again and hazarded another look. She was still looking up at him, and smiled when he caught her eye. He felt the corner of his mouth pull up in a lopsided grin. Perfect. He must look quite a fool. Cullen looked away again, pretending to be very interested in surveying the rest of the room. Which may have been more convincing if anyone else had been there. He heard the scrape of the chair as she pushed back, and her soft footsteps as she walked closer. Giving up his ruse, he watched as she settled into a chair at the table next to the door, next to him. </p><p>“This is Duvall’s watch,” she said. Her eyes dated up and down him. Her brows were knit together, but there was a hint of mischief in her eyes. “You’re not Duvall.”</p><p>“No, ah, I’ve been reassigned here. Apprentice. Er, Amell,” Cullen said. It was perhaps the least authoritative thing he had said in his life. Lucija scoffed.</p><p>“Read my file, hm?”</p><p>“I, er, yes of course. I- I mean, I’ve read all the mages' files, that is,” Cullen stuttered. He had read the files kept on the tower’s mages, as was his duty. But Lucija Amell’s file was one he had carefully perused, though it was relatively short, given her age. She was from a well-to-do family. Her mother, niece to the family’s patriarch, had fled Kirkwall. Lucija's magic had begun manifesting around 7 years old. She was the eldest of four siblings, all who were sent to different circles over the years. She did not correspond with her parents, but she did frequently write to a cousin in Lothering. She was expressly forbidden from writing to her siblings. She was seventeen years old now. She was particularly skilled with energy manipulation, and Irving had been overseeing her lessons personally for the past three years. Irving had been pushing for her Harrowing to occur, but another Senior Enchanter, the maternal Wynne, had convinced him to delay. The reason, however, was not written in her file. Cullen wondered if she was unlikely to pass. That was worrying.</p><p>“Well, aren’t you studious? You should know better than to call me Amell, though. I wouldn’t want your buddies to hear you being so <i>respectful</i> to a mage.”</p><p>“Wha- no! I wouldn’t- well, I would… <i>Maker preserve me</i>,” Cullen said. He looked horrified, even though he couldn't express his thoughts on the matter. Lucija’s face broke out into a wide grin as he stumbled for words.</p><p>“It’s okay, Rutherford. I know you’re not like that. You’ve always seemed kind, from what I’ve seen.” Cullen steadfastly ignored the fluttering in his stomach. She had noticed him? They had really never spoken, not more than a nod in the hallway. But apparently she knew his name, and thought him kind. He felt a smile creeping onto his face. When he didn’t answer, Lucija continued.</p><p>“Really though, you know I’m not an Amell, not since I’ve been here. Give up all family and title and everything. You can call me Lucija, I don’t mind.”</p><p>“Lucija. Right, then.” Cullen shifted nervously, unsure of what to say next. Was she expecting him to talk to her? Or did she want him to leave her alone so she could get back to her work? </p><p>“So, you’ve got Duvall’s watch now. D’you think it’s a permanent switch?”</p><p>“The Knight-Commander didn’t say.”</p><p>“Well, I hope it is. You seem nicer to have around than Duvall.”</p><p>“What happened with you two, anyway?” Lucija’s face soured into a pout that, despite himself, Cullen found rather adorable.</p><p>“He was being an irritating ass, as usual. He had a problem with me practicing spells. Obviously nothing dangerous, which I tried to explain to him. But he still wouldn’t lay off, and he was being such an aggressive git, I… er… told him I’d show him what it looked like when I was trying to do something dangerous.” Lucija grinned sheepishly up at Cullen as she finished. </p><p>“And what did that entail?” Cullen asked, eyebrows shooting up in question.</p><p>“I, ah… set fire to the bottom of his tabard,” Lucija said. Cullen shouldn’t have found it funny. Because it really wasn’t. A mage had attacked his fellow Templar. He should stand in solidarity with his brother. And yet, Acton Duvall certainly was, as Lucija had put it, an “aggressive git.” Cullen did not have to stretch his imagination far at all to picture several situations in which Duvall would wholly deserve such a petty punishment. It would be much more difficult, in fact, to select which of the many instances to hold up as examples of when Cullen had wished he could set Duvall’s tabard on fire, metaphorically speaking, of course. The image of Acton swearing and trying to extinguish a flame on the bottom of his Templar tabard was, undeniably, amusing. And so Cullen laughed, despite all his supposed Templar loyalty. Lucija laughed too, and her dark eyes sparkled. Cullen was struck, as he sometimes was, by just how pretty she was. He got lost in it, the moments slipping past as he looked at her, not noticing the silence. She looked back for a few moments, then pulled a face and stood up.</p><p>Ah, right. He should have said something. </p><p>“Well, I should get back to my studies. I <i>am</i> planning to practice weaving glyphs. If you promise not to pick a fight, I promise not to set you on fire. Sound fair, Rutherford?” Lucija smiled up at him, all cocky confidence as she jutted her hip and reached out her hand to him. He laughed at the gesture and shook her hand, sealing their pact.</p><p>“Deal,” he said. She nodded, smiling, then turned and began walking back to her table.</p><p>“Cullen!” he blurted suddenly. She turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow and looking as if she were trying not to laugh. Maker, what was wrong with him?</p><p>“My name, I mean. It’s Cullen.”</p><p>“I know. There aren’t many people who live in this tower, it’s not too hard to learn the names.”</p><p>“Right. I thought… if I’m to call you Lucija, you should call me by my first name. Seems fair,” Cullen felt his ears burning red, and was sure the color showed on his pale cheeks as well. She studied him for a moment, and he wished nothing more than to sink into the floor and cease to exist. But then her face broke into a wide smile, and that mischievous twinkle returned to her brown eyes. He wanted to melt, still, but in a completely different way than moments before.</p><p>“Deal,” she said, then turned and walked away. </p><p>Cullen was very much looking forward to his new watch assignment.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Marvel at Perfection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cullen and Lucija share a moment on a cold morning outside the tower</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen braced himself against the morning chill. Winter had not completely receded, despite the hints of green budding along the tree branches. He had never liked spring. It was a muddy thing, the few weeks it did deign to appear before the summer heat came. His boots squelched as they sucked out of the soft ground. He wondered, again, how many years it would be until a younger Templar joined the circle, and he could be relieved of this chore. He wouldn’t deny that it was enjoyable enough during the warmer months, and he did appreciate the brilliant hues of autumn. But how much nicer it would be when <i>someone else</i> would be forced to roam the grounds around the tower when the air could bite his nose raw. Knight-Lieutenant Neasa Cleirigh joined him this morning, an older woman with dark brown skin and short, graying hair. She was a taciturn woman, usually, but seemed uncharacteristically cheery as they walked the grounds. He offset her soft eyes with his sour scowl.</p>
<p>Cullen sighed, shifting his feet. Which he immediately regretted, as he felt the mud sucking at the soles of his boots. Which would sorely need polishing when he returned. They were nearly finished their round, trailing behind the three apprentices as they poured their magical energy into the lanterns, or whatever it was that they did. The Templars usually maintained distance from the apprentices, though he wasn’t sure if it was disinterest in talking or fear or looking overly friendly, here beyond the walls of the tower. And though the apprentices often changed, trading the chore between one another, Lucija was always one of their number. Even if it wasn’t strictly necessary, she would come along anyway. Cullen didn’t speak to her, not the way they would in the library late at night, but it was a small pleasure to watch her laugh and joke with her companions.</p>
<p>Sighing again, he turned to Knight-Lieutenant Cleirigh.</p>
<p>“They’re taking too long on this set. I’m going to see what’s holding them up.” She merely nodded in reply, then returned to her gazing up at the clouds in the morning light. Cullen walked the thirty yards to where the mages stood, huddled around the last set of lanterns. One apprentice, Henri, noticed immediately and tapped on Lucija’s shoulder. Lucija looked up and flashed that smile of hers to him. He grinned back, before remembering himself and wiping the emotion from his face. The third apprentice turned and immediately tensed. The gentle tendrils of power he had been snaking toward the lamp dissipated in an instant. Cullen recognized Jowan, a dark-haired apprentice several years older than himself. He was, in contrast to Lucija, slow to learn the finer points of magic. He lacked control of his spells, usually, as Cullen discovered the previous year when a fireball-gone-amuck had singed his eyebrows while supervising the man’s lesson. He scowled.</p>
<p>His dislike of Jowan ran deeper than the accidental injury he had inflicted, however. Jowan was close with Lucija. They spent a great deal of their downtime together, sometimes reading, sometimes laughing and gossiping, and once practicing a waltz in the apprentice’s quarters. The memory sent a pang of jealousy through him, which then led him to his familiar shame. What did it matter to him if Lucija fancied Jowan? The mages really weren’t supposed to have those sorts of relationships, but Greagoir and Irving turned a blind eye. When it was two mages, anyway. A relationship of that sort between a mage and a Templar, however, would not be tolerated. It was one of the things Greagoir had made explicitly clear as he helped new Templars adjust to their assignment at Kinloch. Working with the mages meant protecting them, yes, but it also could mean cutting them down if they became an abomination. Greagoir would not have any of his knights become so attached to any of the mages that they had difficulty if it was time to make that choice. </p>
<p>So it didn’t matter if Lucija was beautiful. It didn’t matter if the way she said his name sent shivers down his spine. It didn’t matter if he lay awake at night, wondering how soft that thick black hair would feel in his hands, how she might arch her back to press herself close against him, how it would feel if her lips brushed against his. He was glad for her friendship, for the chance to argue history and theory with her. The chance to groan at her horrible puns. The chance to tease her for the face she made when she was concentrating on something. It was shameful of him to want anything more than that. </p>
<p>Jowan’s mouth was set firm with fear, his eyes growing wide as Cullen approached.</p>
<p>“Is everything alright? It’s taking longer than I expected,” Cullen said. He ignored the dark frown that flashed across Lucija’s face. It was his duty to ask questions.</p>
<p>“We weren’t doing anything wrong, I swear! I was just trying to do this one on my own, and… it weren’t working right,” Jowan said, fidgeting nervously and looking anywhere but at Cullen.</p>
<p>“You were doing just fine, Jowan. You get too nervous, it makes the energy erratic as you try to guide it,” Lucija said, resting a hand on his arm and smiling encouragingly. “We are fine, Ser Rutherford. We will be done in a few moments.” Lucija turned her back to Cullen as she held Jowan’s shoulders. “Just like we were working on before, Jowan.”</p>
<p>“You should just do it, Luci. We shouldn’t keep the Templar waiting,” Jowan said, shoulder sagging in defeat.</p>
<p>“No. You’re going to do this one, and on your own. I know you can, Jowan, We’ve worked on it for days!” Jowan looked miserable, caught in her gaze. He tried to squirm away, but she held him fast. “Just try one more time. If you can’t get it, then, I’ll help.” Jowan sighed, but turned back to the light and began again. Tendrils of soft illumination threaded from his fingertips, weaving in and out of one another in a way Cullen couldn’t understand. Lucija watched over his shoulder, murmuring words of encouragement and advice. Jowan concentrated, the tendrils shaking slightly as they moved about. Once, Cullen thought the man had lost concentration and dropped the spell completely, but he was able to hold on and continue. Finally, long minutes later, the lantern’s glow flared to life, bright even in the morning light, before returning to its usual subtle glow. Jowan smiled weakly, and Lucija beamed. She flung her arm around his shoulder and squeezed, proclaiming words of encouragement and pride. Then, their word finished, the mages began their walk back to the tower. Cullen made to maintain his usual distance, but Lucija hung back, waving Jowan and Henri on ahead.</p>
<p>“Are you allowed to walk with me, Ser Rutherford?”</p>
<p>“I- I think so, yes.”</p>
<p>“Let’s, then.” They walked together, Cullen setting a slower pace than usual. As eager as he had been to get out of the cold, he found himself suddenly dreading a return to the tower. </p>
<p>“It’s a... nice morning,” Cullen said. He wasn’t sure what else to say, really. Lucija made a small noise of agreement, then stopped and turned to him.</p>
<p>“Cullen, don’t be so hard on Jowan. He does his best, his nerves just get the better of him. And the Templars make him nervous.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean to… I mean… I wasn’t trying to give him trouble. I don’t really know what it is you all do with your magic. How could I know why it was taking such a long time?”</p>
<p>“You could trust me a little,” Lucija said. Her tone was light and teasing, but her eyes searched his, betraying the care behind her easy words.</p>
<p>“You know it’s not that easy, Lucija. I’m supposed to ask questions, that’s how it goes. And I do. Trust you, I mean.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, trying to alleviate his nerves. He wasn’t saying the right thing, he was sure of it. Lucija’s face pulled into that lopsided frown she got when she was concentrating. </p>
<p>“I trust you, Cullen,” she finally said. </p>
<p>“I will endeavor to be more patient with Jowan.”</p>
<p>“Even if you did have to walk around Kinloch with one eyebrow for a month?” Lucija said, her voice regaining its light, teasing tone. </p>
<p>“I think that suited me quite well, actually,” Cullen said, unable to keep the smile from his face in his mock-indignation.</p>
<p>“I suppose if anyone could look handsome with one eyebrow, it would be you,” Lucija said. She began walking again toward the tower’s doors, where Ser Cleirigh was waiting for them, tapping her foot impatiently. Cullen was too surprised to move for a moment. Handsome? Had she been teasing him? Was it that obvious that he fancied her? It seemed an uncharacteristically cruel thing for her to do. But better to believe she was having fun at his expense than to let himself believe that she had meant what she said. He watched her hips sway as she walked back toward the tower. <i>Maker, what was he going to do?</i></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Bitter is Sorrow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucija discovers the fate of her younger siblings</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucija wandered the halls, letter clutched in her hand. She supposed the Chantry was the best place to find a spot of privacy at this hour. She didn’t resent circle life, not really, but she would have been glad for a door to her room. Once she was a full Enchanter, she supposed, she would be allowed the privacy. But for now, she wasn’t interested in explaining to Jowan why she was upset. So she wandered, trying to find a quiet corner where she could cry in peace. </p>
<p>Lucija opened the door to the Chantry, illuminated by several soft candles. Eerie shadows danced in the corners where the light didn’t reach. She closed the door behind her and made for one of the booths meant for private prayer. She froze as she walked closer to the pews, realizing there was another figure there. Someone knelt by the pew, muttering the Chant of Light softly. Their back was to her and the light was dim, so it was impossible to tell who it was. She sighed as he turned, realizing she was there. So much for being alone.</p>
<p>“I didn’t expect anyone else to be here. Forgive me, I can be on my way,” the man said, standing. His voice was familiar, smooth and tenor. And the way he stood. And, now that she knew it was him, she could easily make out the planes of his face. </p>
<p>“Cullen?” Lucija said softly. She didn’t move. How many times had she imagined meeting him in some dark, secluded corner late at night? What timing she had. She was in no mood to enact one of her daydreams tonight.</p>
<p>“Lucija? What are you doing here?” he responded. Neither of them moved. Lucija fought to keep her breathing even. She was so angry, so sad, she just needed to keep her tears at bay a moment longer.</p>
<p>“Just out for a walk,” she said. He would see right through it, of course. Damn Templars kept track of everyone’s schedules and habits. </p>
<p>“You never… I mean… I don’t… ah…” he struggled for words. Was that something he did around her in particular? He seemed fairly intelligent, otherwise. Not an academic, no, but he had a good sense for concrete matters. Logistical things, pieces that he could shift around in his head. That sort of thing. Maybe he just lacked the ability to speak well.</p>
<p>“You aren’t usually here,” he finished. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. A nervous habit of his, she had noticed.</p>
<p>“I thought it would be empty. I wanted somewhere to be by myself for a bit,” she said. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She clutched her letter harder, trying to hold herself together. </p>
<p>“I’ll go. I d- don’t want to intrude.” He shuffled awkwardly, and moved to leave. Lucija sighed, and felt her shoulders shudder as the tears began to snake down her face. Cullen walked to the chapel’s door with surprisingly soft, gentle steps.</p>
<p>‘Wait,” Lucija said. She could tell her voice was thick with tears. “Stay. Please.” He walked back quickly.</p>
<p>“Lucija, are you alright?” he asked, voice hushed. She sniffed as her tears rolled out. He reached out and put his hand on her arm. Any other time she would have marveled at the feeling. He had been careful to never touch her before, even when she had preened and posed just within his reach, trying to tempt him. But she was too distracted now to care.</p>
<p>She sank down onto one of the pews, and Cullen sat next to her. She clutched the letter from her cousin, the one she had received that afternoon.</p>
<p>“I… they’re…” she tried to begin, but she wasn unable to continue as her sobbing began in earnest. She leaned forward and cradled her head in her hands, shaking with her anger and her grief. She felt his hands along her back, tentative at first, then firm as he stroked. It felt nice. Soothing. He didn’t say a word as she cried, just held her and patted her back. Finally, she was steady enough to talk.</p>
<p>“Marjana says my siblings were all taken to the circle. My cousin, Marjana. She didn’t even mean it as a thing. She just asked if I was close with them, since they were at the circle too. I didn’t even… I didn’t know he was a mage. I haven’t heard from anyone in the ten years I’ve been here, and apparently my siblings have all been sent to the circle. I’ve spent so long not thinking about them and now I find out they’ve been kept away from me” Lucija let herself settle back into her tears.</p>
<p>“You didn’t know about them? I… I just assumed that you-” </p>
<p>“You <i>knew</i>?” Lucija jerked back to look up at him, tear streaked face scrunched up in anger.</p>
<p>“I- I didn’t think- it’s in your records, I- I thought you knew! You never talked about them, and I-” he stuttered, looking panicked.</p>
<p>“Of course. Of course the Templars know more about my family than I do,” she said, bitterness steeped through her voice. Cullen looked at her desperately as she cried. He must have realized he was on the outside now, that he had made things worse. </p>
<p>“Tell me where they are. Please? You can pull my records for me, can’t you, Cullen?”</p>
<p>“I- no, Luci, listen, I can’t do that. There are rules, I could get in a lot of trouble-”</p>
<p>“Of course. What a good little Templar you are.” Lucija’s voice was soft and bitter. She knew she was being a brat, but she didn’t care. It stung. Maybe her infatuation with him had fooled her. She had considered him a friend, but clearly he was a Templar first, friend second. It was unjust, unfair that she should be so smitten with a man who wouldn’t so much as break a rule for her. Particularly given that, if she were to ever have him, he would need to break rules more closely guarded than this. Cullen didn’t answer, but he looked pained. Good, she hoped he hurt.</p>
<p>“I... I thought you weren’t close with your family. You said you weren’t an Amell anymore, not since you joined the circle,” he said, grasping for something. He held his hands out by her, looking like he wanted to hold her but had decided against it. The candlelight shimmered as it illuminated his short blond curls.</p>
<p>“You think that was <i>my</i> choice? The family had me turned over to the Templars when I was seven. My mother sobbed when they came to take me. She was screaming and clutching onto me, the Templars had to pry me from her. My brother tried to fight them with a toy sword. It was horrible. So no, I didn’t leave my family behind to come here, they kicked me out and told me not to write to them.” Lucija’s voice grew more and more frantic as her crying intensified. She usually tried not to think about her family. She liked being cheerful, making jokes, being light. And the reality of the family that had rejected her, it crushed her down when she thought about it. So she ignored it, kept her head filled with her studies and her friends. Anything but the younger brothers and sister she would never see again. </p>
<p>“I- I’m so sorry.” Cullen leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. She leaned against him as she sobbed. Her tears were smeared across his shirt, and she realized that she had never seen him out of his Templar armor before tonight. Sort of a waste, really, since she wasn’t in any mood to enjoy it. Tentatively, he reached up a hand to stroke her hair, then continued in a steady rhythm as her sobs diminished and her shaking stopped. Lucija wasn’t sure how long she sat, curled up in the Templar’s arms, watching the Chantry’s candles burn lower until they began, one by one, to sputter and die. She sighed, exhaustion taking over now that she had spent all her emotion.</p>
<p>“I should go to bed,” Lucija mumbled. Cullen’s arms grew stiff around her, as if he had only just realized he held a mage in his embrace. She placed her hand on his chest for one last moment, letting her palm settle over his firm muscles and his soft linen shirt. She breathed in deeply, he smelled of leather and the circle’s lavender soap, plus the musky scent of sweat. Then she pulled herself away. Lucija turned and left for the relative comfort of her bed.</p>
<p>_______________________________</p>
<p>The next two weeks passed without much note. Lucija buried herself in her studies, doing her best to avoid thinking about her family. If she could just focus on the things she enjoyed about Kinloch, maybe then she could ignore the gnawing sadness that had appeared when she thought about her siblings. The questions swirled through her head whenever she thought about it. Where had they been taken? Were they okay? Were they happy? Did they remember her? Would she ever see them again? She wished she could ask Marjana, but she clearly didn’t know where they were. She had assumed they were at Kinloch with her. She supposed she could try writing to her family, perhaps they would take pity. </p>
<p>Not that they ever had in years past. Her mother never answered her letters at all, though she still tried to write her each year. Each spring around her birthdate she would send a letter to Revka telling about her life in the tower. She wasn’t really sure Revka was receiving them. That must be it, The woman who had cried and begged as she was taken away, that woman would not ignore the letters from her own daughter. She had once written to her grandfather, Or, grand-uncle, really. Aristide’s response had been curt and cold. <i>The Amells are a proud family. We will not have our name sullied by people like you. Do not write again.</i> She had cried and cried in secret that day, nearly 8 years ago now.</p>
<p>Since then, Lucija had found her new family at the circle. She had absorbed herself into her learning, and had found a fatherly figure in Irving. She often spent time with Senior enchanter Wynne, who doted over her like a grandmother. And she was happy. She did truly love her life in the tower. If only the reminders of her old family would stop cutting in and ruining things.</p>
<p>Lucija curled up into her bed, holding tight to a book she had squirreled from the library. A book about Antiva and their infamous assassins’ guild, the Crows. She had little studying left to do, thanks to her weeks of intense focus, and needed something to fill her time. Most of the others were out socializing, so the apprentice’s quarters were blissfully empty. She would usually prefer to read in the library, but she had been avoiding her usual haunt. She couldn’t bear to look at Cullen right now. He had tried to catch her eye in the days following their meeting in the chapel, but she had ignored him so thoroughly that he had wilted and withdrawn. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to be angry with him, but she needed someone to be angry with, and he was so convenient. A part of her missed him desperately. How many nights had she been spending late in the library talking with him after everyone else had tucked themselves into bed? Teasing him, watching his face flush red that cute way it did when he was flustered. Recommending books to one another, then reconvening to discuss the last ones they had traded. She shouldn’t have been surprised that his absence hurt her. But she also shouldn’t have let it get that far. Cullen was a Templar before anything else, that much he had proven. Getting close to him was only a way to get herself hurt. She sighed, closing her book in frustration. If she couldn’t concentrate, perhaps she should find something else to do. She got up from her bed and froze as she saw Cullen standing in the doorway of the apprentice quarters. <i>Andraste’s pants</i>, that man refused to be ignored.</p>
<p>“Hello, Cullen,” she said. He shifted nervously, and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck.</p>
<p>“L-Lucija, I thought… well, I haven’t seen you at the library lately.”</p>
<p>“Did it occur to you that may not be an accident?” she said, voice more tired than angry. He visibly deflated. Had he been hoping for a warmer greeting? He walked up to her, and she sat down on the edge of her bed. He was smart enough not to.</p>
<p>“We haven’t traded books in a while, I thought you might need something to read.” He held a book out to her, <i>A Genealogy of Ferelden Nobility</i>. </p>
<p>“Is that some kind of joke?” Lucija snapped, eyes narrowed. </p>
<p>“Just take it, Luci,” Cullen sighed. Lucija hated herself for not being able to refuse. He held the book out to her, his brow creased with worry. She hated that she couldn’t hate him. She took it, and he stood, waiting expectantly.</p>
<p>“Goodbye, Cullen,” she said. He took the hint and turned to leave, after giving her one last apologetic, puppy-dog look. She seethed, equal parts fury and longing. Desperate to take out her anger on something, she hurled the book across the room. It crashed into the wall, before falling to the floor with a thud. A page fell out and settled to the floor next to it. Lucija sighed, before getting up to collect the book and its missing page. Another thing she would have to mend. Lucija reached down to grab the page, and realized it wasn’t written on the same paper as the rest of the book. It wasn’t a page at all, it was a note. She unfolded the paper and read.</p>
<p>
  <i>Alen Amell -- Ostwick Tower<br/>	-He seems to be doing well<br/>Petra Amell -- Jainen Fortress<br/>	-At least one escape attempt, she’s watched carefully<br/>Maksimilijan Amell -- Starkhaven Circle<br/>	-Seems to be quite skilled for his young age, much like yourself<br/>Martin Amell -- White Spire<br/>	-Apprenticed to a mage named Adrian<br/>Revka Amell -- Location unknown<br/>Cuthbert Seger -- Deceased (illness) <br/>	-Your father, right?<br/>Aristide Amell -- Deceased (illness)<br/>Damion Amell -- Kirkwall (imprisoned)<br/>Fausten Amell -- Deceased (illness)<br/>Leandra Amell -- Lothering<br/>	-some records say Hawke, did she marry Malcolm?<br/>Malcolm Hawke -- Deceased (unknown)<br/>	-it seems he was an apostate, but the templars never got ahold of him<br/>Marjana Hawke -- Lothering<br/>	-the cousin you write to? Your family aren’t close with the Hawkes<br/>Carver Hawke -- Lothering<br/>Bethany Hawke -- Unknown<br/>	-Carver’s a twin, but there isn’t much I could find about his sister. It seems she was sickly</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I hope this is some small comfort to you.</i>
</p>
<p>Lucija read the note over and over, before tucking it carefully into the small box she kept at the top of her wardrobe, which held her meager personal effects. And now it held too the knowledge that her siblings were alive and well, and that she had a dear friend inside the circle after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Benediction</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucija and Cullen meet at the library</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen suppressed a yawn as he made his way to the library. He had been up early that morning, accompanying one of the Enchanters on a trip to the market in Redcliffe to purchase alchemical supplies. Knight-Commander Greagoir had suggested again that Cullen surrender his weekly late-night library watch, now that he was assigned to more early-morning duties. He would have to disguise his tiredness better. If he continued to refuse, Greagoir would start to wonder why. He couldn’t hide behind <i>”it’s no trouble”</i> and <i>”I enjoy a chance to exchange books I’m reading”</i> for much longer. </p><p>The real reason, of course, was that his late evenings in the library were his chance to see Lucija. Not his only chance, of course. He saw her in the halls, in her lessons, and all too often in the dreams he had at night. But the library, that had become their chance to talk. They were nearly always alone, due to the late hour. She would come and sit by him and they would talk about nothing. She would give him a book to read over the next week and he would do the same for her. The next week they would talk about what they had read. He enjoyed reading, sure, but the real motivation was in having Lucija teach him. She made him laugh, the way she saw things. She was whip-smart, but never made anyone around her feel less than her. She had such a way of explaining things. Even when her ideas became too theoretical for him, which was often, he was enraptured by the sound of her voice. The look in her beautiful eyes. </p><p>Cullen sighed, running a comb through his blond curls, failing to impart any sense of order to them. He was being foolish, he knew. Even if she had romantic feelings for him, and there was little evidence of that, he could never be involved with her. There were rules, someone was always watching. He would be disciplined, maybe transferred. But Lucija, she would receive the worst of it. She would be transferred, unquestionably. She would have privileges taken away at her new circle, lose the right to write letters or go anywhere without an escort or really anything else they could think of that would pain her. They would instruct her new circle’s Templars that she was a troublemaker. They wouldn’t treat her kindly. He wanted better for her. She lost her family when she was brought to Kinloch Hold, but she had created a family here too. He would <i>not</i> endanger that with his shameful lusting after her.</p><p>It was a difficult resolution to keep, particularly when he looked down at the book she had given him to read over the last week. A book of romantic poetry. He tried to tell himself that he was imagining it. Though she usually preferred books more informative than fanciful, she had told him to read poetry before, so this wasn’t a complete aberration. He was making something out of nothing. And yet. He had barely slept all week. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Sometimes he would imagine they weren’t themselves, that she was a village girl in Redcliffe and he could bring her flowers and woo her. Sometimes his thoughts were much more shameful, images that ran through his mind as he pumped his cock in his hand. He felt guilty, after, but never enough to prevent him from repeating his sin. He pushed aside the thoughts before his face grew red.</p><p>Lucija was already at the library when he arrived. He watched her, his stomach fluttering as he couldn’t help but notice the shine of the candles on her black hair. She’d left it down, falling in thick sheets down her back. She bounced her leg impatiently, but her face showed no signs of ill-ease. She had smudged dark shadow behind her eyes, making them look larger. She was always beautiful, but tonight she was radiant. He studied the bookshelves nearest him, lest his thoughts continue down this dangerous path. </p><p>Lucija waited a minute before sauntering up to Cullen, grinning wickedly. He pretended not to notice the way her hips swayed, the way her lips pouted playfully. What would it feel like to kiss her? He had never kissed a girl, so there wasn’t much to aid his imagination.</p><p>“Hello, Cullen,” she said. His damned heart leapt into his chest. <i>Andraste preserve him</i>, this was ridiculous. She settled in to her usual seat by his post. They swapped gossip, little nothings. He felt his body calming as they fell into familiar routine. She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit he hadn’t noticed before. Was she nervous? Each second passed slowly, but an hour had gone by in what felt like moments. Lucija picked up her book, and held it up, arching an eyebrow. </p><p>“So. As for me, I found your book a bit dry. I had high hopes for a book about heresy, and yet “Heresy of the Daughters of Song” was thoroughly uninteresting. But I can see why you’d like it. History, religion, and obsessively finding the boundaries of the exacting rules.” She winked at that last bit, and he laughed. She knew him well, it seemed. She slid the book back toward him.</p><p>“And you? What did you think?” she asked. Her voice was softer, and she chewed her lip as she looked up at him. The fluttering in his stomach returned with a sickening lurch. He tried to keep his voice steady.</p><p>“I, ah…” What was he supposed to say? If she was trying to send him some sort of message, he would only insult her if he rejected it. But if she wasn’t, he would humiliate himself. “P-poetry isn’t, ah, something I’ve ever been good at.”</p><p>“You don’t like the format? Or you don’t relate to the subject matter?” she asked. </p><p>“The format, I suppose. Too many ways of saying something without saying it. I suppose I prefer things to be stated more clearly.”</p><p>“And the subject?” Lucija chewed her lip and looked up at him, huge dark eyes heavy-lidded behind thick lashes. </p><p>“I-it’s… something I’ve thought about.” His voice was just above a whisper, and trembled slightly. Of course he had. He could barely think of anything else. Lucija stood slowly, her eyes never leaving his. He felt his breath catch as she faced him, her eyes bouncing between his. She frowned, then, and her eyes darted to the library’s entrance, meters from where he stood. </p><p>“Come on, then. I’ve got another book for you, but you’ll have to help me pull it down from one of the higher shelves.” There was no way he could argue, not with the corners of her mouth upturned so slightly, her eyes locked onto his. She walked slowly, deliberately, agonizingly toward a bookshelf sheltered at the back corner of the library, her hips undulating with every step. She disappeared behind the shelves heavy with their musty tomes. </p><p>Cullen waited a moment, trying to calm his rapid breaths, then followed her. They stood together, surrounded by shelves and completely hidden from the view of anyone who might walk by. Lucija turned to him. She made no indication of any book for him to retrieve, however. She stepped closer to him, and he felt every nerve in his body screaming. He swore he could feel the air move around her as she stepped toward him, that he could see the scent of her questioning <i>”is this alright?”</i>. Her lips, soft and pillowy and pink, were parted ever so gently. He reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and it was as smooth and soft as he had remembered. That second lasted an eternity. It was delicious and agonizing and all-consuming. Then Lucija pushed up onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. He was somehow surprised, letting himself believe he was fooling himself until the moment she proved that he wasn’t. She dropped back down to the flats of her feet, her eyes wide with worry. He needed no further confirmation. He bent down to press his mouth against hers and <i>Maker</i> it was sweet. There was nothing else in the world, nothing but her. He placed his hand around the side of her head, weaving his fingers through that dark hair. She rested her hand on his chest, though he couldn’t feel it through his armor. He had never so resented that armor. She was gentle as she pushed her lips against him, slow and sweet as she sucked his bottom lip. His heart was racing, his body electrified. He would his arm around her back as he kissed her, marvelling at the way she pressed herself against him. </p><p>It was surprisingly easy, kissing her. He had worried that he wouldn’t know what to do, that he would make a fool of himself. But she led him with the confidence he lacked. He matched her, tugging and sucking and pressing gently. She pulled away and looked at him. Her eyes were huge and dark, dancing back-and-forth between his. She smiled, and he felt himself grinning back like a fool. </p><p>“Th-that was… really nice,” he whispered. She laughed, a smile and bright red blush blooming across her tawny cheeks. He leaned in and kissed her again, and it was somehow as miraculous as the first time. They stayed that way for longer than was wise, trading kisses and holding each other in their corner of the tower, but Cullen had forgotten to worry. Finally, she pulled away.</p><p>“I should go. It’ll be time for you to switch off soon.” He responded by kissing her again, fiercely. Finally he broke away, Lucija’s fingers trailing gently along his jaw. </p><p>“Until next week?” he said, taking her hand in his and pressing kisses to her fingertips.</p><p>“Until next week,” she replied. His heart felt full to bursting as he dropped her hands. He smoothed back the wild curls that she had messed as she wove her fingers through his hair. Then he turned to leave, smiling wider than he ever remembered.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A drawing I made of Lucija :) https://www.deviantart.com/thelittlestchocobo/art/Warden-Amell-864163284</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Warmest of Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucija and Cullen find time to talk</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a week since Cullen had kissed Lucija in the library. A week where he was walking on air, floating through even the most tedious of his responsibilities with a vacant smile across his face. A week when not even Acton Duvall’s sour attitude or Greagoir’s gruff orders could give him pause. A week where he drifted off to sleep dreaming about the feel of her lips on his, her fingers running through his hair. He hadn’t a chance to see Lucija again, not beyond longing looks across the room during her lessons. Perhaps he should have worried about being too obvious, but it was so difficult to worry about anything when he looked at her and that rush of warmth flooded through him. His breath would catch in his throat when he passed her in the hall and she caught his eye, her expression turning shy as she looked up at him through those dark lashes. His heart nearly leapt from his chest when she placed her hand on his arm, an innocent-enough gesture to get his attention and ask a question she clearly knew the answer to. She was the flame and he was the moth, drawn ever to her.</p><p>And so Cullen woke early, readying himself for the early morning of escorting the apprentices through the grounds. How quickly the tedious chore had become something he treasured. All the tiredness fled from his body as nerves buzzed through him. The breeze through the heavy front doors was warm, carrying the early summer air through the closed-off tower. Duvall waited with him, his usual arrogance tempered by his grouchy sleepiness. The apprentices arrived minutes later. Cullen forgot to breathe as Lucija smiled up at him. </p><p>“Come on, let’s get this over with. I’ve been on an overnight watch and I want to get to bed,” Duvall complained.</p><p>“Yes, Ser,” Lucija responded playfully, shooting Cullen a wink. She, Jowan, and two younger apprentices walked out the door, followed by their Templar escorts. The apprentices talked amongst themselves cheerfully. They were usually in good spirits when they were allowed out on the grounds in the summer weather. Lucija’s laugh rang out, the sound drifting back across the twenty-or-so feet before reaching Cullen and Duvall where they followed behind. <i>Maker</i> he loved when she laughed. The apprentices flitted from one lantern to the next, energizing them as they went. The sun crept higher above the hills, promising another warm day. The packed-dirt path was dry and firm beneath Cullen’s feet, a welcome change from the mud of spring. He couldn’t help but admire the way Lucija’s hips swayed as she walked, wondering what it would feel like to wrap his hands around them, pull her closer to him.</p><p>“I wouldn’t mind harrowing her, if you know what I mean,” Duvall said, elbowing Cullen.</p><p>“What?” Cullen said, turning to face him. Duvall was staring at Lucija, not bothering to conceal his lusting. </p><p>“Oh come on, Cully, I’ve seen the way you look at her. You really telling me you don’t want to tear her out of those robes?”</p><p>“No, <i>Tony</i>, I-- that’s completely inappropriate,” Cullen sputtered back.</p><p>“Ugh, live a little. This is why no one likes you, you know. Besides, from what I hear she’s done plenty of experimenting with the other apprentices. Maybe it’s time she sees what a real man can do?” </p><p>“Fuck off, Acton. You want me to tell Greagoir what you’re saying?”</p><p>“Andraste’s ass, man. I’m just enjoying the view. Don’t be such a stick in the mud.” Duvall and Cullen walked together in uncomfortable silence after that, with Duvall grouchily scuffing his feet along the path. Cullen made a point of looking anywhere but at Lucija, suddenly aware of just how obvious he had been. The apprentices finished their rounds after another quarter-hour of walking and working. The group walked back to the tower entrance, when suddenly Lucija rummaged in the pockets of her robes.</p><p>“Shit! Jowan, I can’t find those scrolls Irving had asked me to bring him this morning. Did you see if I dropped them?” Lucija asked, a hint of panic in her voice. She turned out her pockets, and began rifling through various folds in her robes.</p><p>“I didn’t notice, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Irving is going to be furious. I didn’t think I’d have time to stop by my quarters, so I brought them with me, and…  oh, what a disaster!” Lucija chewed her bottom lip in worry. She turned to the Templars, standing a few feet beside the mages at the tower’s doors.</p><p>“Sers, I apologize, but I need to go find something I dropped. I--”</p><p>“Seriously? I want to get to sleep, not go look for some stupid paper you lost, apprentice,” Duvall said. Cullen pushed down the rush of anger he felt. </p><p>“Yes, seriously. Look, it’s important, First Enchanter Irving needs this. I get that you don’t think much of me, Duvall, but--”</p><p>“I’ll go with her. You take the others inside, then you can get to bed,” Cullen said, cutting Lucija off before she could goad Acton into a fight. </p><p>“Whatever,” Duvall said, clearly still irritated. “Enjoy the view, Rutherford.” Annoyance flashed across Cullen’s face, and he did nothing to stop it. Perhaps Acton would believe him annoyed with the errand, which would only work in his favor. Duvall took the mages inside, and Cullen and Lucija began retracing their steps. They were silent for a few minutes as Lucija scanned the ground anxiously. She walked quickly, until they reached the lantern just beyond the first hill. The tower would be just out of sight, hidden behind the swell of ground. Lucija’s demeanor changed in an instant, from her anxious scanning to coyly looking up at Cullen.</p><p>“When do you last remember having the scrolls?” he asked, determined not to let his lustful thoughts interrupt helping her.  She laughed, her eyes sparkling.</p><p>“You mean these scrolls?” she said, pulling papers from a pocket inside her sleeve.</p><p>“You didn’t…”</p><p>“I thought you might volunteer to help me.” She bit her bottom lip as she looked up at him. He felt his cheeks grow warm, realizing her ruse to steal time alone. With him. His heart leapt into his throat as he stepped closer to her, their bodies inches apart. He raised a hand and stroked it across her cheek. Time stood still as she looked up at him, dark eyes shining. He leaned in slowly, savoring the ache of anticipation before his lips met hers. He closed his eyes and felt her wrap her palms against his neck, teasing her fingers into the hair at the back of his head. He kissed her slowly, making sure every second lasted a lifetime. She pressed her body against his cold, unyielding armor. He wrapped his hands around her waist, holding her tight. She bit softly, catching his lip between her teeth and pulling slightly. The feeling ran straight through him. He groaned, feeling his cock stiffen in his pants. Lucija broke away from his mouth, only to begin trailing kisses along his jaw. She stood on her tiptoes to reach his ear, nibbling and licking his earlobe in succession. Cullen’s breath was heavy as his fingers dug into Lucija’s sides. Her robes balled up in his fists. He wanted to take her, to feel her body beneath his, to run his hands over every inch of her.</p><p>Cullen pushed Lucija away from him gently. She looked up, lips parted gently in question.</p><p>“Luci, we… we should talk about this.” She untangled herself from his arms, and he was instantly flooded with regret.</p><p>“Alright,” she said, expression worried. She sat herself on the grass and he followed suit. He pulled off his gloves and wrapped his now bare hand against hers. Tingles like electricity ran up his arm from where their fingers were interlaced, his thumb stroking over the back of her hand. He didn’t know where to begin. Part of him thought it would be best to tell her he couldn’t, to try to keep her safe. But he was too selfish. He couldn’t imagine keeping himself away from her.</p><p>“You wanted to talk?” she asked, voice soft. He couldn’t find words, not while she was looking up at him like that. Her brows knit in concern. “Cullen, if you don’t want--”</p><p>“No! I do. Want this.” Her face lit up in a hopeful smile at his words, and he had never seen anything so perfect. “I really like you, Luci. I- I have for a while.”</p><p>“I do too. I thought I was the only one of us for a while there. Are you always so shy?” Cullen blushed at her teasing.</p><p>“Um... I… uh…” Lucija laughed sweetly, before leaning in to kiss him again. His worries were once again lost in the feeling of her lips between his, of the tip of her tongue brushing against his top lip ever so slowly. She pulled away, coy smile that revealed she knew exactly how wonderful he felt. </p><p>“I- I’m just not sure we should do this,” he said, breathless, after she pulled away. Her face fell.</p><p>“I understand. It’s not like you could have a future with me.” She looked down at their hands, still held fast together.</p><p>“It’s not that! It’s… I…” Cullen sighed. He had never been good at this. “I’m worried. I don’t want… if Greagoir finds out, you’ll be…”</p><p>“You’re worried about me?” she said. Her expression softened again as she looked at him, her eyes darting between his. Cullen nodded, face heavy with misery at the thought. “Oh, Cullen.” Lucija reached up and placed her fingers under his chin, pulling his face to look at her. There was an intensity in her eyes that made him shiver. “I don’t want you to decide what risks I should take.”</p><p>“If you’re found in a relationship with a Templar they’ll punish you! You’ll be moved to a new circle, they won’t let you write letters, Maker knows what else!”</p><p>“In a relationship?” The corners of Lucija’s mouth tugged upward in the slightest smile, as if she hadn’t heard any of the warning he had given past those first words. “Are we?” Cullen stuttered, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. It was just like her, to flip everything around on him. She always knew just how to turn the conversation around, to catch someone off guard, and she damn-well knew it. But still, there was a question hanging in her eyes. How could he ever refuse her?</p><p>“I… would like that.” His voice was barely above a whisper.</p><p>“I would too,” she whispered, before leaning in to kiss him again. Slow. Sweet. Tender. His head was beginning to spin with the intoxication of being this close to her for this long. She pulled herself closer to him, wrapping her hands around the side of his head as she kissed him deeply. He opened his mouth as her tongue brushed along his lip, and she obliged him by going deeper, pushing her tongue into his mouth and swirling it around his. He had always thought it sounded so strange in theory, but now, it was absolutely breathtaking, to be so entangled with her. He pressed harder against her lips, and she made a soft sound in response. Emboldened, he broke away from her mouth and moved down to her neck. Her skin was warm and soft as he pressed his lips against it, then, tentatively, brushed his tongue out to taste her. Her fingers in his hair tightened and she moaned just barely. It was so sweet, so perfect, so incredibly intoxicating that he couldn't think straight. He kissed lower, down the sides of her tawny neck. He stopped as he reached the chain she wore, a faint taste of metal in his mouth. The apprentice's amulet she wore. It was enough to remind him.</p><p>“We have to be careful,” he murmured, pulling away. His breath still came fast, quickened by his wanting for her.</p><p>“We will be,” she assured him, teasing her fingers around the blond curls atop his head. He sighed, losing himself in the feeling. Lucija snuggled herself up against him, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck. He held her against him, wishing again that he weren’t in so much armor, that he could feel her against him. He felt as if he would burst from happiness. She wanted him. To be with him. How long had he dreamt of hearing her say as much? Finally, she sighed heavily.</p><p>“We should go back, shouldn’t we?”</p><p>“I think so, yes.” Neither moved for another minute, until they both at once got up and began to straighten themselves. Lucija stole one last kiss before turning to walk back to the tower. Unease settled around Cullen as they grew closer. Closer to the place he had sworn to do his duty. Closer to the order that would punish them for the things they felt. Farther and farther from the minutes-long fantasy they had created, out alone in the hills together. Lucija felt it too, he could tell. As they reached the tower doors she turned to him. She grabbed his hands, squeezing tightly, and leaned in for one last kiss before he could protest the danger.</p><p>“Thank you for helping me find my scroll, Ser Rutherford.” She smiled, dark eyes sparkling, then turned and opened the tower doors.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Magic Upon Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wynne offers Lucija some advice</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You have another patient waiting. A young girl, injured while working in the gristmill.”</p><p>“Wynne, I don’t even want to be a healer. Do I really have to keep at this?”</p><p>“Yes, you do.” Wynne was stern, and Lucija sighed as she turned back to the small clinic. The Kinloch tower held a monthly pop-up clinic on the shores of Lake Calenhad, and the locals would come to have their injuries and illnesses tended at no charge. It was, of course, an opportunity for the Circle to gain goodwill amongst the locals, many of whom had only heard horror stories about mages. It was also an undeniably good opportunity to train mages in healing arts. It was far kinder than injuring and healing the Tranquil, in any case.</p><p>Wynne most often oversaw the clinic, with various apprentices helping out and furthering their learning. Lucija participated more often than she liked. She was good at it, undeniably, but found it far less interesting than the more arcane aspects of magic. But it was difficult to argue, however, when the time came for apprentices and enchanters to volunteer their help. After all, it was a chance to talk to people, and a chance to help them. It seemed almost a cruelty to deny them her abilities.</p><p>Lucija stepped up to the girl sitting on the low wooden table. She held her arm close to her body. It had been broken in an accident at the local gristmill, nearly two weeks ago. Her family hadn’t the resources to treat it until now, and simply splinted it against two sturdy sticks. Lucija frowned, seeing the swelling and bruising around the middle of the forearm. She could just make out the swell of the bone’s end, poking gently against the skin. This was too damaged to heal on its own. She gave the girl a reassuring smile, before laying her hand gently upon her arm. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the tendrils of her magic reaching out toward the edges of the bone.</p><p>“Don’t close your eyes. You need to stay aware of the situation around you. Particularly if you’re healing amidst combat,” Wynne scolded. Lucija opened her eyes with a huff as she continued pouring her magic into the girl. She had to find the boundaries, the places where things had come apart, and encourage them to grow back together. That was the theory, anyway. Lucija’s first practices years ago, on nugs, had led to some disastrous results before she learned the nuances of it. There was a precision necessary. </p><p>“Be sure you’re only affecting the bone. Acceleration to the blood vessels will only cause them to open up again under the increased pressure, and she’ll bleed under her skin,” Wynne said. Lucija bit back her irritated response. This was not the first broken bone she had healed. She found the places where the bones had come apart. She used her magic to gently push them toward one another, then to fuse them together in a flash of growth. The girl squealed. Lucija knew it wasn’t <i>painful</i>, exactly, but it was certainly an unnerving sensation for those unused to it. The girl wiped her eyes as Lucija stepped back, then she got up and ran to her father. The family professed their thanks and tried to press several coppers into Lucija’s hands, but she denied them fervently. </p><p>Once they had left, Lucija sighed deeply and sat down on a trunk of supplies. She had spent the better part of the day healing the people at the clinic, and she was exhausted. She and Wynne were the only mages there that day, with a customary Templar escort who mostly stood outside the tent and helped herd the crowds. Wynne, somehow, appeared as prim and hale as ever. For someone who was old enough to be her grandmother, Wynne was quite energetic.</p><p>“That was our last one for the day. You’ve done well, Lucija.” Wynne smiled at her as she took a seat on the now-empty table across the tent. Lucija couldn’t help but smile back. Wynne was probably the person she most looked up to in the tower, other than Irving. Irving felt like a mentor who could teach her, help her grow, guide her to great deeds. Wynne felt like the mother she never had, nurturing and warm.</p><p>“I mean it, Wynne, I don’t want to be a healer.”</p><p>“I know, child. And yet, you continue to accompany me.”</p><p>“There are people who need help! It would be cruel not to.”</p><p>“That is likely true, and yet not something the other mages have considered. I will not force anything on you, but you <i>would</i> do well at this.” Wynne held up her hands in defense as Lucija protested, but both women smiled. Lucija set about pouring glasses of water. She looked out through the open tent flaps at the sun, setting into the autumn air. The barest chill snaked through the trees, reminding Lucija of just how long it had been since the spring and her birthdate. She took a deep breath, then turned to Wynne.</p><p>“I’ve been eighteen for half a year now, Wynne.”</p><p>“Yes, you have.”</p><p>“The Circle has Harrowed younger mages than that.”</p><p>“I see, that’s what this is about. Lucija, we have had this conversation before, and--”</p><p>“A year ago! It was a year ago we talked about it. Irving thought I was ready, said I had been for some time.” Lucija looked at Wynne, searching her face for some kind of reaction.</p><p>“First Enchanter Irving does not decide everything that happens in this Circle, Lucija.”</p><p>“Why don’t you want me to be Harrowed, Wynne?” Lucija’s voice was small, sad. “You know my magic is strong enough. Do you think I’ll fail? Do you really think I’d become an abomination?”</p><p>“No, dear, of course I don’t.” Lucija held her gaze at Wynne but said nothing, challenging the woman to continue. </p><p>“Youth is impatient. I remember being your age. All I wanted was to explore, to prove myself, to show what I was capable of. But there is more to life than proving yourself, Lucija. Once you are Harrowed, everything will change.”</p><p>“It’s supposed to change! I’m so tired of being an apprentice, bunking in the dormitories, going to lessons. I want to lead my own studies, I want to travel, I want to be taken seriously!”</p><p>“Of course you do. But once it has happened, there is no returning to what you had before. Children are always so eager to leave behind the very things that adults look back at so wistfully.”</p><p>“I am not a child, Wynne.”</p><p>“No, you are correct. I suppose… I just wanted you to have your youth a little longer. Once you become an Enchanter there will be many requests on your time. I would be surprised if you did not leave within months of your Harrowing, to aid in study at another Circle or to perform tasks requested by the Chantry or the nobility. I know you are still hurt about your family, and I suppose I was trying to keep you here with the family you have at Kinloch, at least for a little bit longer.” Lucija looked at her, stunned. Wynne had delayed her Harrowing because she… didn’t want her to grow up? A wave of sympathy and affection washed over her. She went to Wynne’s side and sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a half hug.</p><p>“Oh, Wynne. You know I’ll come back. Irving will never let them transfer me completely.” She smiled. Wynne gave a small smile back, the corners of her eyes crinkling.</p><p>“And neither would I. I fear that you may be correct, however. You are certainly ready to be Harrowed, and I have been holding you back unnecessarily. You have grown into a fine woman, Lucija.” Wynne stared into the dusk pooling at the edges of the tent, but her gaze was far-off. It was clear her thoughts were elsewhere.</p><p>“Thank you, Wynne.” Lucija and Wynne sat together, watching the sunlight streaming over the hilltops. Lucija felt a bubble of excitement inside herself at the thought that her Harrowing would finally be scheduled, that she would finally become a full Enchanter.</p><p>“If you’re nearly finished, I’ll get the boat ready,” Ser Cleirigh called to them from her post outside the tent.</p><p>“Of course, thank you Ser,” Wynne replied. Lucija got up and began packing up the supplies that remained. Wynne stayed sitting, deep in thought as the footsteps outside receded.</p><p>“There is one thing I wished to discuss with you, Lucija.” Wynne’s voice had changed. Gone was the softness, the warmth. She sounded cautious, stern. Lucija froze out of instinct. Things usually didn’t end well for her when Wynne began with that voice.</p><p>“Lucija, I notice you’ve been, well, rather taken with one of the young Templars.” Lucija was so surprised she dropped the vial she was holding. It fell to the ground and broke with a sharp crash, spilling shimmering blue liquid into the packed dirt beneath her feet. The air smelled faintly of the metallic-yet-sticky-sweet lyrium. </p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lucija cursed herself for showing her surprise. She was usually a good liar, but Wynne had always seen through her. Damn that old woman.</p><p>“What is it you don’t remember? The longing glances you two share? The times you disappear to some corner of the tower? The poorly-healed bruises on your neck?”</p><p>“That was one time!” Lucija protested. Her face burned red. “Wynne, it’s… I… he…” Lucija’s mind raced as she struggled to find any plausible explanation. It had been mere months. How could she have already figured it out? Lucija’s stomach clenched and twisted, her palms suddenly slicked with sweat.</p><p>“Now, child, I was young once too. I understand the desires people have. But the consequences would be dire if you were to be discovered. You know that.” Lucija looked away, her face screwed up in anger and fear and anguish. What could she say? Wynne wasn’t likely to be moved by protestations that Lucija was happier than she ever had been, that Cullen made her feel excited and enraptured and alive and loved . Despite Wynne’s assertions, Lucija couldn’t picture her in the throes of passion, so consumed with longing and infatuation like she herself was with Cullen. She felt her breath speed up as she struggled to stay calm.</p><p>“So what, are you going to tell Greagoir?” Lucija whispered finally. She shut her eyes against the tears that began welling up there. Wynne wasn’t the type to keep petty secrets. She was responsible, rules-abiding. She would tell Irving and Greagoir, and Cullen would be transferred away. Or she would. She would never see him again. The thought of losing him threatened to wrench her apart. Was that what love felt like?</p><p>“No, I will not say anything to Greagoir or Irving. But I expect that you will do the right thing, Lucija. You need to break off this <i>matter</i> with him. I see no reason for both of your lives to be ruined by a youthful indiscretion, given that you shall put an end to it soon.” Relief and grief flooded through Lucija in equal measures. Wynne wouldn’t tell. All that it would take was ripping her own heart out. She stood in silence, taking in Wynne’s words. She was determined not to cry. She felt Wynne’s hand on her arm, and jerked away from her touch. She knew it was petulant, but she didn’t care. She balled her hands into fists as she felt the swell of emotion rising in her throat. Her face was red and screwed up against the well of tears threatening to fall.</p><p>“The boat’s rea-- are you alright?” Ser Cleirigh said, returning to the tent. Lucija clenched her jaw and held a hand to her stomach. </p><p>“Not feeling well,” she murmured. It seemed as good an excuse as any, and Cleirigh accepted without further question. The boat ride back to Kinloch Tower was quiet, the tone frigid and dark. Lucija glowered out over the waters, wishing she could sink beneath the waves. Finally they arrived at the tower, and Lucija dutifully helped unpack and carry back their day’s supplies. As they finished, Wynne turned to her.</p><p>“Lucija, I know you--”</p><p>“Good night, Wynne. I really must be getting to sleep. I… have a lot to do tomorrow, it seems.” Her voice hitched at the end of her statement. She didn’t wait for Wynne’s reply before turning and walking to the apprentice’s quarters, her mind swirling and dark.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For those who don't know, Wynne, in her youth, had an affair with a Templar in the tower. She had a son, who was taken from her to be raised in the Chantry (and later to the circle at White Spire). Definitely adds a layer of personal regret to this conversation!</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. In The Hollows of Their Footprints</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Lucija attempts to do the right thing.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Cullen fidgeted anxiously as he walked the tower halls to the apprentice’s quarters. He had been there only a handful of times since he had begun seeing Lucija, outside of his rounds. He thought it would look strange, if he suddenly was visiting her wing too often. The times he had stopped by were usually when she wasn’t there, dropping off a note or a flower by her bedside. They met up instead in various corners of the tower where they could find a moment or two alone, but never anywhere as public as the apprentice quarters. But yesterday she had asked him to come. The apprentices were all receiving some sort of special instruction, and really, Lucija was supposed to be there too. She would probably lie her way out of it. She was always so persuasive, so clever with her words. He had seen her draw a smile from even the grouchiest Templars in the tower. She would debate against him on some issue or another until he was thoroughly backed into a corner, then she would turn around and argue the other side in ways he had never even considered, giggling madly as he stumbled around her arguments. That was the way he liked to see her. Cheerful, poised, eyes sparkling as she talked about something she had learned, as she explained some magical theory he didn’t begin to understand. It was beautiful.</p><p>Now, as he rounded the corner and ducked into her chamber, she was not the shining woman he was expecting. She smiled when he came in, but it was a weak thing. She had been pacing.</p><p>“Luci, is everything alright?” He went to her, crossing the room quickly in long strides. He took her arm in his hand. He wanted to lean in, to feel the brush of her lips against his, but he was shaken by her expression.</p><p>“I’m fine, Cullen.” Lucija smiled up at him, uncharacteristically unconvincingly. She placed her hands along the sides of his head, pushed up onto her tiptoes, and kissed him gently. He drew her close to him, feeling her body against his. She bit down gently against his bottom lip, and he responded by tightening his hand on her arm. </p><p>“Cullen,” Lucija whispered. He trailed kisses down her neck, nipping and sucking as he went. She let out a sweet sigh as she obliged him by tilting her head aside. His initial worry was gone, replaced with only the fiery need he felt for her. They never had enough time. He dipped lower, tugging the clasp of her robes open as he trailed kisses down her chest. He began to peel down the front of her robe, baring her tawny skin inch by beautiful inch. </p><p>“Cullen, wait,” Lucija said, her voice breathy and soft. He stopped, pulling back and tugging her robes back into place. He looked at her, eyes dark with desire but cautious and questioning. </p><p>“Cullen, listen, I… we need to talk.” Cullen felt his heart sink down into his stomach, where it lay in a pool of dread. He pulled himself away from her, his body suddenly stiff and cold.</p><p>“What is it?” He made no effort to keep the anxiety from his voice. His eyes flickered between hers, as if he could find the answer if only he looked hard enough. Lucija licked her lips nervously, shifting her weight between her feet.</p><p>“Cullen, I… I think we shouldn’t do this anymore.” Lucija’s voice was low, but firm. Cullen felt the ground drop from underneath him. He gaped at her, wordlessly, his brows crumpled up in anguish.</p><p>“Why?” he finally managed to ask. </p><p>“I… I don’t want you to get hurt.” Lucija looked down at her hands, fingers clasping and unclasping over and over.</p><p>“It’s a bit too late for that.” Cullen’s voice held no bitterness, but Lucija still winced as if he had shouted. The air hung between them, so thick it was almost impassable. Lucija’s cheeks were dark and red, and she chewed her lip. Cullen felt a million things at once. He hadn’t thought much about a future with Lucija, because he knew it couldn’t be. Still, he had somehow also neglected to remember just how precarious their relationship was. Somehow, he was blindsided by the thought of losing her. He had thought he would have longer before the inevitable end. Or perhaps he just thought he would be the first to come to his senses and end things. As if he didn’t need her. As if he could cut her off whenever he wanted.</p><p>No.</p><p>Standing before her, feeling the salty heat stinging his eyes, he knew he had been wrong. He would never be able to give her up. He needed her, and desperately. But here she was, rejecting him. Shattering his heart. She offered no explanation, no apology. His chest was being crushed, he couldn’t breathe. It was too much.</p><p>“Do you need anything else, apprentice?” he asked, voice stiff. Lucija’s shoulders heaved. Her mouth was set tense and thin. A tear snaked lazily down her cheek, leaving an iridescent stripe across her brown skin. She turned her head away. She said nothing. Despair clutched at Cullen’s heart as he turned to leave, his steps slow and heavy.</p><p>“Wynne knows,” Lucija said. Her voice trembled. Cullen stopped, turning to face her. “Wynne knows, she told me she wouldn’t tell Irving or Greagoir but I had to stop seeing you.” Lucija wiped at her eyes, smearing her tears with the sleeve of her robes. She looked small, fragile even, as she stood in the cold hall crying. Her shoulders crumpled in and her arms wrapped around her, as if she were trying to physically hold herself together. It was like a knife in Cullen’s gut.</p><p>“Oh Lucija. That’s why.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.” She began to cry in earnest then, turning her face away from him. He was frozen in place, swaying between his knowledge that he should leave and his desire to wrap her in his arms. Finally, reason lost. He was around her in an instant, pulling her face against his chest. All semblance of whatever vows he had taken were gone. He didn’t care about the Templar Order, he didn’t care about the rules of the tower. All he could care about was her.</p><p>“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, pressing his lips against the part of her dark hair.</p><p>“I don’t want that either,” she sobbed, pulling herself back to look up at him. He wiped the tears from her cheeks, only dimly aware that his own face was wet. </p><p>“Then don’t push me away.” He ached, emotions clawing desperately at the front of his mind. “Tell Wynne you’ve broken it off. We’ll be more careful. Just… I… I need you, Luci.” Lucija sniffed, and let out a wet laugh.</p><p>“You would risk that? Cullen, being a Templar has been your dream since you were a kid. You’ll be throwing that away if we get caught.” </p><p>“And? You’re risking more than I. I understand if it’s too much. I don’t want you to… I won’t have you suffer for me.”</p><p>“I would suffer without you.” Lucija sniffed, then wiped the tears from her face again. She was calmer, at least, and her beautiful smile had returned. An ember of hope burned in Cullen’s chest, and it was enough.</p><p>“You will have me here, as long as you will let me stay.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss against her forehead.</p><p>“I won’t push you away,” she said. She leaned up and caught him in a kiss, quick and sweet, before pulling away to look into his eyes. </p><p>“Lucija, I… I think… I love you,” Cullen whispered. She wrapped her arms around him. In all the pain and the joy and the heartbreak, all he could do was hold onto her.</p><p>“I think I love you too, Cullen.” The kiss he pulled her into was deep, all consuming. As if he could show her just how much he loved her. As if he could press himself against her hard enough that the forces pulling them apart would cease. For a moment, then everything had righted itself. The crisis had passed. Lucija loved him. </p><p>Then, from behind them, the shattering of glass.</p><p>Cullen whipped around, placing his body in front of Lucija protectively. Jowan stood in the archway leading into the room, his mouth agape. At his feet, a shattered glass and a pool of liquid, probably water. His face grew angry almost at once, and a flickering glow surrounded his hands as he assumed what Cullen thought must be Jowan's piss-poor idea of a fighting stance.</p><p>“Don’t touch her, you… you…” Jowan completely failed to look intimidating. Lucija pushed Cullen aside gently and stepped toward the mage.</p><p>“Jowan, what do you think is happening?” she asked, voice soothing. Jowan looked at her, his face growing red.</p><p>“He’s not…”</p><p>“Forcing me to do anything? No, he isn’t.” Cullen tensed as Lucija took his hand, entwining her fingers with his. Jowan’s eyes bounced between Lucija and Cullen, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly. Cullen tried not to let his nerves show. Lucija next to him looked placid, calm. It was clear she trusted her friend. Cullen, though, was tense. Jowan was a threat. To himself, and, more importantly, to Lucija. And every ounce of his training said that a mage who is a threat needed to be dealt with. </p><p>“Luci, you’re <i>fucking</i> a Templar?”</p><p>“Jowan, please.” Lucija sighed, her voice clipped and short for just a moment, before returning to her usual sweet, patient tone. “I know you might not understand, but <i>please</i>, you can’t say anything.”</p><p>“Of course I won’t! You’re my best friend. I wouldn’t get you in trouble like that.” Cullen couldn’t help but notice that Jowan didn’t look at him, only at Lucija. It was clear the sentiment only extended as far as her. Lucija beamed, clearly pleased by his words. She dropped Cullen’s hand and moved forward to wrap Jowan in a tight hug.</p><p>“Oh, thank you!” Jowan returned her embrace, but stared at Cullen all the while. It wasn’t an aggressive gaze, but it wasn’t trusting. Cullen pulled his shoulders back, refusing to be cowed by the other man. After a few moments, the two broke apart.</p><p>“Listen, I snuck away from the assembly early, but they won’t go on much longer. You should be sick in bed, like you said you were. And <i>you</i>,” Jowan looked over at Cullen, “should be somewhere else. Soon.” Lucija nodded, moving back to Cullen. Between all the fear, all the tension, his heart still soared when she rested a hand on his cheek. He leaned in to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her body. She was his. She broke away from the kiss, her body still wrapped up in him, and placed a kiss on the end of his nose. In spite of it all, he laughed.</p><p>“You should go. I’ll meet up with you later, okay?” she said, her huge dark eyes locked on his.</p><p>“It will kill me to ignore you in the halls, you know.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, one that had escaped the bun pulled back behind her head.</p><p>“I know. But you have to try, please.” Her anxious pout was surprisingly cute. Cullen smiled, reassuring, and brushed his lips against her brow. </p><p>“I would do anything for you.”</p><p>“I love you, Cullen.”</p><p>“I love you too.” Reluctantly, against every instinct in his body, Cullen pulled himself away from her. She smiled so sweetly as he turned to leave, sparing one last, longing look before hurrying himself down the hall. Perhaps the decisions he had made were wrong, perhaps he should have let her break off their relationship. But right now, it was hard to feel anything other than light and warm. Whatever was to happen, they would face it together.</p>
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